corncobconfessions

and  rabbits are  promiscuous creatures. just thought, throw that in, because, well, don't know. just did, that's all. well, yes, am a lost creature, myself. does it show?  an insidious kaleidoscope of sorts, sort of. rearranging colors according to value of intake. taking nothing away from kaleidoscope.  taking care where insidious involved. devil may care attitudes.  gambler paradise, per se. no promises kept here; none. it is what it smells it is. nothing more, nothing less. okay, enough rigmarole, let's get on with show and tell.  am less than these words, yet more than a thought provoking  while conscious to all that was as words flow serendipitous  through suspicious smoke cloud of beautiful colored hues with much heartiness, keep those mad dogs at bay. ouch! dog bite on isles six, seven and zero. reality sucks! as does clinical depression with flushing diarrhea. ah, ...

plead the fifth; make 'em work for it. give 'em nothing. make 'em sweat. do it to them before them do it to you. this is good advice. you should take it, or not. one of us is insane. think its her, but it could be me. time will tell. time will sort this out, or not. who is that masked man? will he be staying for supper? probably not. when he was young, he molested chickens on his way to school. I queried why? he hit me with a molested chicken. I queried why a chicken? he hit me with his fist. no more questions. he dropped out of school. truth be told:  he was kicked out for molesting chickens on his way to school.  now he's a serial killer. no, he's not. he's a psychiatrist, and still molests chickens. we all need a hobby, he said. he should know, after all, he's a psychiatrist. I'm a serial killer of molested chickens. a hobby, of course. ...

was messing around when around came around, started messing with me. messed me up pretty good. won't ever be the same. in a bunch of pain, all because was foolish enough to start messing around with around. some fools know no shame. around set me straight. Spencer Kope-Collecting the Dead a rendezvous with peanut-head, in proximity with a feather-head. assail those varmints! grim prognosis till further notice. conscience not required here, although, considering changes. whatever flows goes. ho, but rhetoric flows so beautiful; so smooth and evenly; such loveliness.  cheers! no hypocrites here, unless one considers peanut-head. Rambo has left the building, chasing after Elvis. nothing dignified here, folks; try next blog. but alternatives, what this does to sensitive sense of smell. sniffer alert! isles zero to infinite. tightrope dancing, with compression calling: grab your partner, ...

an amateur is only an amateur until not so much so. usually only takes a bath and some new threads for a complete amateur makeover.  making an amateur into something worthy breathing air. something close to human, anyways. all keyed up with no fitting lock. well now, does that just suck, or what? okie-dookie then, moving right along: but one should not generalize, should one? supposing enough mercy still remains, giving us all a little piece. hey, stranger things happen because of folks like those that know and grow wings, flopping in a winter's wind. folks needing witness protection, mainly from themselves.  time has no eraser, nor a conscious, nor anything of real value, as far as that goes and gone time is as simple as simple gets, without getting out of bed with no tricks to reveal.  and we are prisoners of time and time knows and excepts and makes no promises to relinquish...

on every third second of every fourth day, another misdemeanor is born. but, let's chill for a moment, save misdemeanor for another day and place. after all, what the heck is the hurry? no big rush here, folks, that misdemeanor ain't going anywhere, so there. a reasonable facsimile: black bird, black bird! fly! fly! thinking survival. anxiety on a high-wire. at this point, just another snake oil salesman. make that salesperson; political correct, and all that. leave hostilities at door, please. and bring a shovel, starting to snow. ho, ho, ho. sort of an aneurysm; gap within a gap; gaping hole where thought escaped. enough is enough; even more than thought could withstand within humanities grand plan. tomorrow, then, new plan of escaped vented. well, spring has sprung. and along with springs comes warm gentle south breezes; pushing against those harsh cold winter winds.  summe...

CAROL O'CONNELL-IT HAPPENS IN THE DARK complicated life, made so by complications all the live life through. and then, curtain comes down. not just down, but down with a raging roaring flourish. busting right on through  and through and bang! done and gone and ended. pickup pieces and move on and on.  all the live long day, hey all the live long day he had had some gambling debts all the live long day when she found out she had him put away all the live long day, hey wacky, psychotic, but oh so delicate  unconscious as we charge forward while skirting clumsy pride and a dumb schmuck preaching cretin dance at old folks bingo romancing night every other night or so. whoever hates them self, is incapable of any love for anyone. 

in the not too far off future, technology will take over our lives completely; BANG, just like that. we will not see it coming; will just happen, right out of the blue. and there will be no going back. all our whimpering, crying, will change nothing. technology will own us.  living vicariously through words of writers.  am drifting now, between known and unknown. between lost and found. clumsy cluck thing blooming; smog and creosote sandwich for those up for a dare. sure to stun growth and curl hair. have medical on standby; also psychiatrist.  swept under rug; forget it. not to worry on it, overly. prone, cross hatched thoughts; growing feet and walking. purify they mind, oh, they crazy weasel creative, gnawing. purplish circled geriatric donkey, and pink ping oinking profanity. see where this is going? do you? there well be a test, when and if. investigation to ensure while conjuring up halfwi...